Their heads shaking and their fingers pointing to something in the distance
fear, anxiety, worry deep in their eyes, spreading across their faces
Their voices are silenced
I'm not sure why I can't hear them
I turn my head to get a glimpse of what is causing them grief
Frank Hayden stands in the distance
War hero, successful doctor, a well breed American
harmless... right?
Except... except the dark look in his eyes
there's something there, menacing and deceiving
I cannot point out what it is although its the closest to pure evil I think I've ever seen
The intuition stirring deep in my gut has unhesitatingly placed the Native American's pain with Frank.
But there's a problem
He's a Hayden
You don't question a Hayden
and you certainly don't make accusations against them
Its a rule
unspoken but possessing power so unimaginable
it is never broken
I look back at the Native Americans
Their faces still showing the embedded pain that has scared their hearts
Although I am sure that Frank has caused mischief on the reservation
I turn my head as the world turns their head and walk away
and as I did I passed a sign
WELCOME TO MONTANA'S RESERVATION
...... where silence is golden
